There is a place we go, to escape, or maybe just to catch our breath. Sometimes its with friends on a boat, fishing for bluegill. Sometimes its reading a good book with a glass of wine on the front porch overlooking Puget Sound. But sometimes, the demons that occupy a space in our brain leak out and need more to suppress them and drive them back in to the box we keep them in up on a shelf in the back of the closet in the corner of our brain; waiting there until we are brave enough or just tired enough to face them. Welcome to Moreno's Bar. Just one of those places found in Holy Ground.
Originally due out this Christmas, we might linger a bit, do a bit more tweaking and sipping if you get my meaning. Oh, it will have legs and walk, the question is, what kind of legs and can we get her to run? We predict pretty strong legs at that. But while we wait, we want to give you a little taste of the story and let you linger, yourself, with our hero. He's tired-worn out, but the greatest moment of his life is yet to be. Come, pull up a stool and try the meat loaf.
Nights played one into the other and about every four months or so, as far as Moreno could figure it, Cooper would drink enough and think enough to walk over to the pay phone in the corner of the bar and ‘drunk dial.’ He never used his cell phone and in his well-oiled logic, why would he? He didn’t want Allison, his ex, to know it was him calling, although after receiving a dozen or so of his calls from Moreno’s Bar as it came up on the caller ID, she figured it was him calling—again. “You calling a cab again, amigo?” Moreno queried him.
“I don’t need a cab,” Cooper slurred.
“I wouldn’t drive if I were you,” Moreno returned without looking up.
“Lucky for me, you ain’t me. I walked here, remember?” Cooper mumbled under his breath.
The marriage crashed after five years, and it took an additional two years to put out the fire and carry away the wreckage. It had been years since the final disillusionment and eventually, Allison remarried. This one also didn’t want kids and was a federal marshal who traveled three days out of the week.
Cooper would sit and let old thoughts of Allison come to the forefront of the lubricated brain pan. Random thoughts of old times, old things, old ways. He never called her before midnight. That would be too convenient. He always knew the husband’s schedule, whatever his name was, so Cooper missed the inevitable confrontation for awhile. Allison never told him her ex-husband had been calling in the middle of the night over the past few years. Why—she never said and Cooper never asked. He dropped the coins in the phone and dialed. She picked up on the fourth ring.
“Hello.” Her voice was gruff. She cleared her throat and said it again. “Hello.”
It took a second for the voice to register as hers. She sounded different, and for that second, he thought he had dialed the wrong number. “Allison? It’s me.”
“Coop?” She sighed. “Of course, it is.”
“I was just calling to see how—”
“Do you know what time it is? You’ve got to stop calling here.”
“No, I didn’t know it was late. Hey, I’m sorry okay? I thought I’d just give you a call. I, ah …” He paused for moment. “Just wondering if you still had that baseball I caught at Candlestick Park when we were on our honeymoon. I remember you had on that green paisley dress.” He had to come up with something to talk about, and this subject came up between the third and fourth scotch.
“Baseball? You called me to ask me about a baseball?” She opened her eyes to look at the time. It was 12:34 . “I don’t know. I don’t remember any baseball.”
“You don’t know?” There was a sense of frustration that his wife—his ex-wife— didn’t remember the baseball he caught on their honeymoon. “I thought it was on the bookshelf next to the pictures of—”
“That was years ago, come on. There are different people here now,” she said with a cut. “It’s late—is that why you called? To ask about a damn baseball?”
“Yeah, I guess it is a little late … no, no. Look, I’m sorry all right? Jeezus, why does everything have to be a battle with you? I don’t care who I’m waking up … Hello? Hello?” He thought for a minute about calling her back. He always thought about calling her back. After all, it was just a simple question about a baseball, his baseball. It wasn’t hers. She didn’t catch it. She didn’t care about it. She didn’t need to be rude about him calling, he thought. Yeah, he was sorry it was so late, but it’s not like she couldn’t go back to sleep. He went back to his stool.
“You call her?” Moreno asked.
“She doesn’t care how my day went.”
“She cares about you, my friend.”
Cooper nodded while he held his glass with two hands. “Nah, I stomped on her heart too many times while we were married for that. The only thing she wants to know is when I’m dead.”
“You underestimate that woman.”
“You underestimate this man. Now shut up and pour. I can still feel my lips.”
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